


Ace of Hearts

by AwkwardGhost_1782



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Awareness Week, Asexual Character, Canon Asexual Character, Communication, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Sex-Averse Jon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, ace author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwkwardGhost_1782/pseuds/AwkwardGhost_1782
Summary: In the gentle blink of an eye, an entire week had gone by at the Safehouse, time slipping through their tangled fingers between walks through the highlands and tea-sweet kisses at the lumpy couch. They are content, happy even.This is precisely why Jon is so mad at himself for waiting so long to have The Talk.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 28
Kudos: 344
Collections: Repulsed/Averse Ace Jon Archivist, tma fics





	Ace of Hearts

Jon doesn’t know how to approach the subject.

He knew since the beginning it was a conversation that needed to happen. Ideally, it’d be the type of conversation that happens before you get in a relationship. But, well, everything had happened so fast. And between The Lonely and the car ride to Scotland and impulsive kisses in front of dusty entryways, Jon found himself being Martin’s boyfriend, officially. It was a line that made his face heat up with both giddiness and a hint of embarrassment. He considered himself a bit too old for such a jovial term like _boyfriend_ , not to mention the word doesn’t even begin to describe everything Martin means to him (which is, well, _everything_ ) but it has a sugary ring to it and it brings a smile to both of their faces, so boyfriend-and-boyfriend it is. In the gentle blink of an eye, an entire week had gone by at the Safehouse, time slipping through their tangled fingers between walks through the highlands and tea-sweet kisses at the lumpy couch. They are content, happy even.

This is precisely why Jon is so mad at himself for waiting so long to have The Talk.

He had meant to, he really had, but every time he felt it might finally be the right moment it got washed away by a brush of warm hands and soft knitted sweaters and smiles that reach the eyes. He’s not even entirely sure of how he’s _supposed_ to broach the topic. The last time he had The Talk had been way back in University with Georgie and they hadn’t approached it as much as it simply snuck up on them and tore their hairs out. The entire conversation had been… less than ideal. And though Jon felt pounds lighter by the end of it, he doesn’t want it to go Like That again.

(A part of him is also scared. This past week has been so _nice,_ the nicest one Jon can even remember. What if this ruins everything? He doesn’t want to see the stark disappointment in Martin’s rosy face, his warm eyes turning cold when he finds out Jon can’t give him what he wants. And— Martin is kind. He would probably be gentle about it. But Jon doesn't know how— doesn’t _want_ to live without Martin.)

He needs to figure out how to bring it up to Martin.

But gods, it's also not his fault Martin is so damn distracting.

The Safehouse is nice but at the end of the day that’s what it is, a _safehouse._ It has a few things for entertainment, but not many. Some moth-bitten paperbacks, an incomplete puzzle, an old Clue board game. But there’s only so many times you can conclude it was Mr. Green at the Library with a pipe before it becomes monotonous. So they found other ways to spend time.

Like right now. On the couch. While mugs of honeyed tea turn cold on the table.

Jon shifts so his elbow isn’t digging onto Martin’s middle and brings his hand up to the nape of his neck, burying his fingers into the downy waves of strawberry blonde hair. He sighs into his mouth and his lips are soft and warm and yielding like tender bread marked with kind finger imprints and Jon feels like he’s melting under Martin’s curious touch. Hands tangled in long, greying hair and wandering up the expanse of his back under an oversized shirt. 

Unwittingly, his lips begin to curve upwards into a smile against Martin’s mouth. He feels weak-kneed, he feels warm from all sides, he feels _happy_. And how novel is that? Pressing himself closer to his boyfriend (his everything) Jon sucks Martin’s lower lip into his mouth and hums contentedly. Martin whimpers low and sweetly and pulls away after a second while not going far away at all. Their lips just shy of brushing each other when they speak. Martin looks down at Jon with a dizzying look on his eyes and blinks lightly, red in the face and lovely all over.

“That okay?” Jon murmurs.

Martin smiles, small and tooth-gaped and brilliant. “More than okay,”

For a moment, Jon thinks this might be a good time to bring up The Talk. But then Martin is lifting him into his lap and he’s not thinking anything at all.

And they don’t talk about it.

  
  
  


Jon begins practicing.

Years ago, he remembers coming across an article outlining how you should tell a current or potential romantic partner about it. He had mostly skimmed through it, not having any intentions of committing himself to a relationship at the moment. But he still remembers parts of it.

_(“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about”)_

He stands in front of the slightly cracked bathroom mirror, mumbling stiffly rehearsed lines under his breath. The walls of The Safehouse are thin.

_(“Before I do, I just wanted you to know that I love you”)_

It, it shouldn’t be this difficult! He doesn’t know why it's so hard, why he feels like there’s this lump in his throat. The subject hasn’t even been brought up. No lines have been unintentionally crossed or toed around. Maybe he won’t need to tell Martin at all.

_(“To be clear, there’s nothing wrong with you”)_

But it will happen, eventually. And Martin deserves to know.

_(“I know this might be confusing”)_

A soft knock on the door startles Jon out of his halfhearted rehearsal.

“Jon? Is everything alright? You’ve been in there for a while,”

A small smile pulls at the sides of Jon’s mouth.

“It’s nothing, I’ll be out in a second,”

_(“I love you”)_

  
  
  
  


It happens, as most things do with them, unintentionally. 

They’re sitting at the dinner table which dips on one end and has paint-faded mismatched chairs. Martin made tea for the two of them (and Jon swears he’ll never become tired of Martin’s tea.) It’s about four in the morning and neither of them could sleep. It happens, sometimes. Dreams will shake them awake or slumber won’t come to them at all. After everything they’ve been through it’s only expected. But at least now they can go through it together.

Martin sits beside him, close enough Jon can feel his warmth, close enough he can reach out to him whenever he wants. He’s been going on about how Solifugids (also known as sun spiders) are not, in fact, spiders. His hands move enthusiastically as he explains Solifugids cannot spin webs like spiders do, almost spilling his tea a couple of times. Jon doesn’t mind. Even if there’s a small drop of tea on his sleeve. Even if sun spiders are still repulsive though they are not in actuality spiders. Jon wants to burrow himself in Martin’s faded yellow sweater and live out the rest of his days like that. He shoves a socked foot between Martin’s and he, without missing a beat of his arachnid rant, shoves back. It dissolves into a footsie war from there, the two of them trying their best to keep straight faces and pretending nothing is going on under the table even though it’s just the two of them and soft laughter keeps slipping from smile-achy lips.

 _I love you._ Jon wants to say. _I adore you. Please never stop talking about spiders or whatever they are called. Whisper every sickening fact you know into my ear and let me kiss them from your lips._

What comes out instead is “I need to tell you something,”

Martin’s feet cease their relentless onslaught as he fully turns toward him, their knees knocking together. “Go on,” He says, cheeks still colored with laughter. 

Jon takes a deep breath. “It’s nothing bad,” He begins. Bad start. Oh god. “I think,” That’s even worse. He can see Martin’s eyebrows begin to furrow with concern or confusion.

He takes Jon's hands in his. “Jon?” 

_(“I hope we can figure something out”)_

“I had meant to tell you sooner, but, you know everything happened so quickly and I just— I couldn’t figure out when and I realize I should’ve brought up this before, I know it might be— I hope we can figure something out? But if not, I guess—” 

“Woah, woah, Jon, slow down. What is going on? Is this about—’’ 

“ _No_ , no. It has nothing to do with— that. It’s about me. And you. And us,” 

Martin squeezes his hands. “Okay,” 

He opens his mouth to speak again but he realizes he’s been going about this all wrong. Start from the beginning. “I love you.” 

Martin’s lips twitch up. “I love you, too.” 

“I love you. And _I’mmmm_.. I’m asexual.” 

Martin pauses for a beat. His eyes travel down to the floor, thinking, and Jon feels like his lungs are being held underwater. Then he looks up again, sleepy warm eyes meeting Jon’s, and says: “Okay,” 

“I— okay?” 

“I mean,” Martin starts. “I wish you’d told me sooner? But not because— it’s not an issue! It’s just, you know, this feels like something important,” 

“You’re right, it is. I just… wasn’t sure of how to tell you,” He squeezes Martin’s hands. “You really don’t mind?” 

Martin snorts. “No, of course not, Jon. I love you for _you,_ all of you. Not– _despite_ you. I’d honestly be happy with just holding hands for the rest of our lives if that’s what you wanted,” 

“Seems a bit inconvenient, I feel like we might need to let go on occasion,” 

“Smartass,” Martin says lovingly. “We probably should discuss– boundaries and all that,” 

“Alright,” Jon agrees. 

“So, nothing below the belt?” 

“No, I’m not interested in– sex. At all,” 

Martin nods. “What about– do you actually like kissing? Wait, that sounded rude. I just meant—“

Jon answers with a kiss. 


End file.
